Artistic License
by SChimes
Summary: Rusty's earliest attempts at journalism get somewhat...deflated, when he runs a creative nonfiction piece by the team.


**This has been in my drafts folder for a little while, but since the show is more clearly than ever putting Rusty on a path toward a writing career, it seemed like a good time to pick it up and dust it off! The inspiration for this was threefold:** **Rusty's inclination to write things, combined with his** **repeated teenage failure to take constructive criticism very well, and the indisputable fact that certain older members of the team aren't exactly the most sensitive when it comes to expressing their opinions :D.**

 **Time-wise, the story would happen around early February - so a few weeks after Rusty started college, but long before he submitted whatever journalistic piece he got rejected in the premiere! And I guess Julio hasn't been suspended yet, because he's there, too ;).**

 **Artistic License**

" – ' _and the cantankerous old-timer lieutenant'_?!"

"Nice to see you're putting those SAT words to good use," Buzz remarked in a quiet aside.

Lieutenant Provenza stared at the printed pages he'd been reading, his eyes looking about ready to pop out. Then he glared at an expectant Rusty. "I thought you said this was an article on _general police procedure_ that you wanted me to fact check."

"It is! Sort of. We're on the creative nonfiction unit in my comm seminar."

"Creative?!" The lieutenant stared at the pages as though they'd sprung tentacles. "Look, Rusty – the only fiction I read are suspects' statements. And that's because the LAPD pays me to. Have Buzz proofread this for you."

"I don't need it _proofread_ ," argued the boy. "I need to make sure it sounds plausible enough for 'a day in the life' kind of article. Apparently the professor's really harsh if he thinks you're just making stuff up."

Andy grinned up from his desk. "That earlier description sounds plausible to me," he interjected.

It earned him a sour look from his partner, who held the pages out to Rusty again. "This doesn't _need_ to be fact-checked," he argued, "this is...literature!"

Rusty's eyes widened hopefully. "Really?"

"I didn't mean that as a _compliment_...!" Provenza groaned. "Look, son...if I wanted to read lengthy descriptions full of extended metaphors, I'd go check out my four ex-wives' divorce claims." He rolled his eyes at Rusty's expression, and conceded to cast another irritated glance at the printed draft. "Ye gods," he muttered under his breath, " _creative nonfiction_..."

"I have to turn it in by the end of the week," Rusty hurried to inform him. "And the best pieces might get published in this monthly student magazine. So I figured I'd, you know, write about something interesting _and_ fun..."

Provenza gave him a dry look. "And you picked _murder_ as the topic that meets those two conditions?"

The boy rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well – 'creative nonfiction' means it still has to be about something real," he retorted. "And, the professor wants it to be something that we witnessed first-hand." He pulled a face. "I basically lived for two years inside this police station. I don't exactly have a lot of things to pick from that _aren't_ murder."

Provenza let out an indistinct grumble. "In any case," he added, louder, "I don't see why you have to mention _me_ in this at all."

"Comic relief?" suggested Buzz.

"Because you're the second-in-command of the division!" protested an exasperated Rusty. "It establishes _credibility._ But look, I didn't even use any of your real names or anything, okay?"

Amy nodded her supportive agreement.

"That's true, Sir...the 'cantankerous old-timer lieutenant' could _really_ be referring to anyone."

Julio and Andy snickered audibly.

"You know what – forget it," grumbled Rusty, clearly displeased with their general reaction. "I'll just fact-check it myself. And just for the record, you all said you _wanted_ to see it."

"To be fair," Buzz pointed out in a diplomatic tone, "you slightly misrepresented what your assignment was. You did say, 'description of a standard day in an elite police division'..."

"Yeah, _for_ my English seminar! Obviously it was gonna involve, like...some actual literary style!"

"...' _his eyebrows receded into his hairline'_?!"

Provenza's voice had climbed half an octave.

Rusty crossed his arms defensively.

"No easy feat," grinned Flynn, "considering that his hairline's receded about halfway to the top of his head."

Julio, Amy and Tao met his comment with various snorts, while the older lieutenant shot him another unamused glare.

* * *

Rusty's neck was starting to burn. He glowered at everyone within his line of sight. "Okay, you know what, I'm glad you're all having such a good time criticizing my writing, which again, you _wanted_ to see," he said with annoyance, "but since this is exactly _zero_ help to me – and thanks a lot, by the way – I think I'm just gonna..."

He trailed off his tirade at the familiar sound of clicking heels, and fell completely silent as Sharon stepped into the murder room. Everyone else did the same, smirks vanishing and expressions schooled to the best of everyone's abilities.

She surveyed them all with one look, taking in the older lieutenant's sour mien, Rusty's scowl and everyone else's poorly suppressed amusement. Finally her eyes settled on her son again.

"What's the matter."

"Nothing."

Right.

She directed a questioning look to everyone else.

"Rusty's let Lieutenant Provenza read his piece on a regular day around here," Buzz supplied, then he turned a chiding look on Provenza, "– and the lieutenant's not being very kind."

Sharon cut her second-in-command a sharp look.

"Now, _all_ I said," he defended, "was that for an _article_ , it's just taking a little too much, ah... artistic license. Look – it's fine. It's... yeah. Stories aren't my thing."

Sharon glared at him, while Rusty snatched back his paper.

"You could've mentioned that before reading it out loud and making fun of it," he grumbled.

Sharon's eyebrows shot up. "You _made fun_ of Rusty's article?"

" _No_! That was Flynn!"

Her glare snapped to his partner.

Andy's eyes widened. "What? No! I wasn't making fun of the story–" he turned on Provenza, "– I was making fun of _you_!"

With a very stern eye-roll, Sharon put her hand on Rusty's shoulder. "Is your story finished?" she asked gently.

She could feel his sulky shrug under her palm. "I _thought_ it was, but maybe I should reconsider my assignment topic. Or my _life_ ," he added with a pointed glare in the lieutenants' direction.

Sharon hummed. "Well...before you do all that – I think I might have a few incident reports for you to read."

The boy sighed, and shook his head. "Look, Sharon, I – I appreciate what you're trying to do, I do, but...maybe I should just try something else."

"Oh... you can write about anything you want to. You don't have to use the reports as source material," she assured, "but they _are_ some of Lieutenant Provenza and Flynn's more...inspirational pieces of writing. Maybe you can learn a thing or two about artistic license from their _impeccable_ reporting style." She spared the two lieutenants another meaningful glare, just for good measure.

Provenza rolled his eyes. "I didn't say anything about his writing style...! Although for God's sake – he called me a...curmudgeonly old horse!"

"I think it was 'cantankerous old-timer'," Buzz provided, "and haven't you ever heard of _epithets_?"

"Aren't reporters supposed to be _objective_?" grumbled the lieutenant in return.

"This isn't a report," Rusty said grumpily, "it's a creative nonfiction piece, and if you'd paid any attention when I was telling you about it, you'd know."

Sharon squeezed his shoulder. "Come on," she said. "I'll look for those reports and let you read them. Just so you can correctly evaluate the lieutenants' standing to give writing advice."

"I just said that I don't like fiction!" protested Provenza.

"I thought the article was great!" defended Flynn at the same time.

"And what reports are you talking about, anyway?" the older lieutenant demanded. "All my reports are _extremely_ well done, I'll have you know."

"I don't think you've actually written a report since 1998," Tao said thoughtfully.

"Oh, the particular one I have in mind happened a little after that," said Sharon. She smiled at Rusty, "It's about a dead body that was found in a secluded strip of land up north by Getty Park."

Provenza and Flynn exchanged a stupefied look.

Mike and Buzz paused, their expressions showing surprise followed by a vague sort of alarm. Julio kept the stony face, but his lips curled slightly.

Sykes just looked a little confused.

After a moment of silence, Sharon gently turned Rusty around and nudged him in the direction of her office. "Come on," she said again. As she turned her back on the team and proceeded to follow him, Provenza leaned forward in his seat, and glowered at his partner.

"Flynn, so help me God, if you're the one – "

"What – are you crazy," Andy hissed back, " _I_ didn't tell her!"

"Well _someone_ obviously did!" Provenza glared at Tao, Sanchez and Buzz, in turn.

"Maybe it's just...rumors she heard!"

"Tell her what?" asked Amy.

Buzz held up his hands. "It wasn't me."

Mike and Julio likewise shook their heads.

A few steps away, Sharon ushered Rusty ahead of her into the office, and walked in after him, closing the door.

A brief silence reigned, broken only by Provenza's irritable rumbling sigh.

"You think the Captain actually knows anything for sure?" Buzz asked in a low voice.

Lt. Tao gave a lopsided, thoughtful sort of nod. "Impossible to tell..."

Inside her office, Sharon smiled reassuringly in response to Rusty's look of injured dignity, and touched his shoulder again as he slumped grumpily into the nearest chair. Then she walked up to the glass wall and, shooting Provenza and Flynn one last Darth Raydor look, she snapped the blinds shut with one sharp move.

* * *

 **That ending might make various levels of sense, depending on whether or not you've seen The Closer ;) sorry about that.**

 **Thank you for reading!** **Also, please talk to me about last night's episode. And Julio. I have flaily feels to be shared.**


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